


Beauty and the Beast

by Chris Fitzner (chrisfitzner)



Series: Beauty and the Beast [1]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-26
Updated: 2013-03-26
Packaged: 2017-12-06 13:52:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 13,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/736404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chrisfitzner/pseuds/Chris%20Fitzner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Belle Reading, anxious, shy school librarian, finds herself continually indebted, for little things, to the town "ogre".  Soon she realizes there's "something there that wasn't there before".  Set prior to the beginning of the show. AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Promise

**Author's Note:**

> My first piece of fiction in many years, written and published on fanfiction.net in January 2012.

The clanging of the old bell above the shop door gave her a start as she tried to slip in quietly. Weak autumn sunlight filtered through the old glass of the windows, entranced for a moment, Belle watched the dust motes float through the light in their aimless dance. It was almost enough of a distraction from her shaking hands. She did not see the proprietor anywhere and so she felt more at ease to look around.

She wandered from case to case, pausing now and again to study the coloured glass on display. Belle failed to hear the shop owner re-enter the room.

"Ms. Reading, I'm sorry for keeping you waiting."

Belle whirled around, startled. "It is no trouble, I've not been here long."

Mr. Gold, neatly suited and trimmed, made his way to the counter nearest Belle. Though she had lived in Storybrooke for as long as she could remember, there had been few occasions that she had interacted with Mr. Gold, and she had never before been inside the pawn shop. Belle studied him a little more closely.

A lean man of average height, though still taller than she, Mr. Gold gave her the impression of being much taller, much larger. Town rumors certainly made him seem larger than life. The hint of a smile played upon his thin lips but the amusement did not reach his eyes. Under his scrutiny, Belle could feel her cheeks begin to flush and the nerves that she had worked to calm began to push through again.

"I - uh, received your message," she stammered, pulling a wrinkled piece of paper from her cardigan pocket. "You have some books that the school might like to have?"

"Yes, right over - " the light tap of Mr. Gold's cane punctuating his words. " here."

She followed him through the shop to the back corner where there was a box overflowing with children's books.

"Oh, these are lovely," she breathed, crouching down to have a closer look. Worn copies of _The Cat in the Hat_ and _Horton Hears a Who_ graced the top of the pile but underneath Belle found _The Story of Ping_ , _The Owl and the Pussycat_ and two old and beautifully illustrated collections of fairy tales. "Would you not wish to sell these?" she wondered, turning to look at Mr. Gold, who had moved close behind her.

"No, Ms. Reading, as you can see, books are not really my business," he offered his hand and pulled her up. "Someone left them near my shop door and I would hate to see them go to waste."

He was standing entirely too close to her for comfort. Nodding slowly, Belle took a subtle step backwards. She was not good at interacting with other people, it was the most difficult part of her job as school librarian. Books were her comfort zone and her escape from the anxieties of family and social life. People often felt threatening to her, even her well meaning father and sisters.

"So -" she began, looking off at the wall for inspiration. "What will you be wanting for the books?"

The front door flew open then and her father, short, fat and out of breath, stomped into the shop.

"There you are," he panted. "I've been waiting for you for ages."

"Good afternoon, sir," Mr. Gold greeted the newcomer. "Is there anything I can help you with?"

"Here to fetch my Beauty. Was beginning to think she got lost!"

Belle could feel her face begin to redden. A mixture of embarrassment and irritating rising from her stomach.

"Lost in Storybrook? Don't be silly, Papa." she said through clenched teeth, struggling to keep her tone neutral.

"Indeed," there was a hint of amusement in Gold's brown eyes. "I contacted your daughter so that I may make a donation to the children's collection at the school." he explained, gesturing to the books. "I suspect she may need a hand with them?"

"Very good of you, sir." Mr. Reading marched past Belle and hauled the books from the floor. "I'll be in the car, Beauty." and then he was gone, the bell swinging wildly as the door slammed behind him.

"We appreciate the books, sir, and I am sure they will be well loved by the children of Storybrooke for years to come." the words tumbled out of her mouth as she started for the door in the wake of her blustery father.

Belle froze in her tracks, a hand on her wrist spun her gently around to face Mr. Gold.

"We have not worked out the matter of payment, my dear."

"Just..send your invoice to the library and we will have the school remit payment."

"Beauty," Mr. Gold murmured, using her father's pet name for her, his lips turned up in a half smile. "I'm not looking for money."

"A deal." her voice was flat. Of course he would want to make a deal. That was one of the few things she had known about Mr. Gold.

"This would be more like," he paused. "a promise."

"A promise? What could I possibly promise you?"

He had taken her other hand, holding them both gently, his fingers warm against her cool skin.

"Promise me a visit, here to the shop if you prefer. I'm afraid that we've never been - well acquainted and I like to know who my neighbors are."

"That is all? A visit?" her voice incredulous, she could hardly believe that is all he would ask. "Well, of course I can visit. I spend weekend evenings at my father's bookshop down the street, I am certain I could find the time."

With a sly smile, Mr. Gold released her hands and inclined his head.

"Very well then, Ms. Reading. Best not to keep your father waiting."

Mumbling her farewell, Belle walked quickly out of the shop and dashed to the safety of her father's waiting car.


	2. Apprehension

The clank and clatter of dishware and the dull hum of conversation filled the cafe. Like most Saturday evenings, Belle went to Granny's after working in her father's bookshop. Sometimes for her supper and sometimes to meet up with Mary Margaret Blanchard, a teacher at the school Belle worked at and one of her few friends. Most times, though, Belle went there to read. Between her father and sisters, peace was somewhat of a luxury. Absorbed in the newspaper, Belle failed to notice Mary Margaret slide into the booth across from her.

"It's getting cold."

Belle looked up, startled. "Really? I found it quite mild-"

"Your _supper_ ," Mary Margaret pushed the plate of chicken and pasta to her. "You really ought to eat."

"Yes, mum," grumbling, Belle neatly re-folded the newspaper and set it on the vinyl seat next to her.

"That's a good girl," her friend teased as Belle made a face at her and reluctantly picked up her fork and slowly began to pick at the dish.

"How are things, Em? I missed you at lunch yesterday. Avoiding the library are we?"

"Not exactly," Mary Margaret hesitated, playing with a button on the cuff of her jacket. "A parent of one of my students wanted to discuss their child."

"Let me guess; Madam Mayor?" wrinkling her nose at the thought of Storybrooke's mayor. "What is it this time?"

Regina Mills was above and beyond the most difficult person Belle had ever known. Ruthless and often unfeeling, Regina could and often did make their lives a living hell. A secret part of Belle admired the mayor's ruthlessness, she was "assertive", powerful; in a way Belle knew that she could never be. But she ruined lives, tried to ruin Belle's own life when she decided that the man that Belle was dating would be better suited to her. Wincing at the memory, she tried to focus on Mary Margaret, who seemed unable to avoid Mayor Mills as Belle did.

"Oh, the usual. You know." she absently stirred the ice in her water around with her finger.

Belle _did_ know. Mayor Mills was constantly coming into the school to harass the staff over any perceived neglect or wrong doing toward her son, Henry. As Henry's teacher, Mary Margaret often bore the brunt of Regina's unfounded wrath.

"There are some new books on the shelves, that ought to make the next library day more exciting." Belle offered, trying to move back into lighter topics. "My favorite is this beautifully illustrated collection of fairy tales. Some of the stories are a little non-traditional, but it's really gorgeous."

"I heard something about that."

"Library acquisitions are now the hot topic of the staff lounge?"

"Something like that," Mary Margaret took a sip of water and glanced out of the window. "Is it true then?"

"Is what true? That there are some new books? Of course it is, I was just telling - " Belle stammered.

"Is it true that they came from Mr. Gold?"

"Yes, they were a donation." she studied Mary Margaret's face, reading the disapproval in her dark eyes.

"He doesn't _do_ donations, he's not exactly a charitable man. What did you give him?"

"Nothing, I gave him _nothing_. He said had no interest in money - " she frowned at her pasta.

"Did you make a deal with him? Please tell me that you know better than to do that."

" _No_ , I did not make a deal with him. At least, I don't think so."

"You don't think so?" now it was Mary Margaret's turn to look confused.

"I gave him a promise of a visit-" she said quietly, ignoring Mary's groan. "To his _shop_. Speaking of which," glancing at her watch. "I must be off."

Mary Margaret sat back in the booth, arms crossed and a slight frown still on her face.

"Just - be careful, Belle. Don't ever offer more than you have."

"What?" Belle zipped her jacket.

"No deals." Mary Margaret's voice was hard.

"Right, no deals." she echoed absently. Digging a twenty out of her purse, Belle tossed it on the table next to her half eaten supper, and dashed out the door, trying to quell the uneasiness that Mary Margaret had given rise to.

*********

Downtown Storybrooke was no big, mean city. The main street was quite abandoned as Belle hurried along the sidewalk, dodging the odd pedestrian, her hands stuffed deep into her pockets to keep them warm. Dinner sat heavily in her stomach, adding to her building nausea. She was loathe to admit that she was looking forward to her visit to Mr. Gold's pawn shop, but it was the truth. Or at least, it had been. Her social life was desolate, an empty plain with the odd tree or shrub representing her friendships with Mary Margaret and the librarians at the town library. She was not certain that she could count Archie Hopper among friends, seeing as he acted as her therapist. Loneliness, like a big, black hole, loomed at the center of her life. She had chosen her solitude, mostly, she could not see any other way to be.

Slowing her pace as she neared the shop, Belle watched her reflection in the store windows she passed. Not a vain creature like her two older sisters, Belle dressed modestly. She paused to smooth her knee length floral print skirt and adjust her sweater. A quick run of her fingers through close cropped brown curls was all that was necessary to tame any wind blown hair. The woman staring back at her in the window looked frightened, dark circles emphasizing wide brown eyes.

"Come on, Belle, you can't live in your books forever," the other Belle admonished.

"Sure I can."

"Nonsense," her reflection retorted, seeming to frown at her.

"You did not just answer me. Did you?"

Her reflection, Window Belle, said nothing and did nothing that she did not. Tilting her head, tugging her ear, she even dropped a small curtsey just to be sure.

"Man am I ever losing it - " she stuck her tongue out at herself for good measure and continued down the sidewalk that lead to the pawn shop.


	3. Rose

Belle slipped through the door just minutes before closing time, a little out of breath. She pushed the door shut quietly so as to not disturb the bell. The sales floor was quiet and she guessed Mr. Gold was in the back room.

Drifting to a small shelf, she ran her fingers lovingly over the spines of the old, worn books. These were her friends, more than any person had been. She had her father of course, and she dearly loved him, but books soothed her in a way nothing else could.

"Ms. Reading, I didn't hear you come in," Mr. Gold's soft voice broke into her train of thought. Belle spun around to find him close behind her.

"Good evening, Mr. Gold," she smiled nervously, though oddly glad to see him.

"Would you care for something to drink?" he strode over to the door, flipping the sign to 'closed' and locking the door in one smooth motion. "Tea, perhaps?"

"Tea would be lovely, thank you," she murmured, following him into the back room.

He showed her to a wing chair with faded upholstery, roomy and comfortable. Under normal circumstances she would have loved to have lost a rainy afternoon with a book in just such a chair, but her nerves kept her on the edge of the cushion.

"So, you work as the school librarian then," his back to her as he prepared their tea.

"Yes, sir-"

"Milk? Sugar?"

"No, thank you, I take it black." Belle squirmed a little in the chair, scuffing her shoes against the wooden floor lightly.

He presented her with a chipped tea cup and took a seat across from her. Belle focused on the steam rolling off the liquid, daintily blowing to cool it so she could at least sample it before she went home.

Mr. Gold leaned his head back, eyes closed, perhaps enjoying the silence. " _Or my nerves_ ," Belle thought ruefully.

"And your father, he owns the used bookshop nearby?"

"Mmh," was all she managed, scalding her upper lip on her tea.

"Your tea is satisfactory?" his attention returned to playing host.

Belle nodded, feeling mute under his wandering gaze. Truthfully, she found his tea a bit weak, but she was not about to bring it up. Giving up on the tea, she set her cup on a small side table, determined not to betray her unsteady hands.

"I'd love a small tour of the shop, if you don't mind, sir." she suggested, in hopes that it would draw some of his attention away from her.

"Certainly," his smile seemed almost sincere. "It would be my pleasure." Mr. Gold set his own cup on a cluttered table behind him and then offered his hand to her. She accepted it and he pulled her easily to her feet. His hand was warm, his touch leaving her skin tingling as she reluctantly let go.

They moved slowly around the shop, Belle half listening to him as Mr. Gold showed her paintings, musical instruments, vintage jewellery. He asked her about her work, mostly, after receiving a chilly response when he inquired of her mother. Belle barely remember her mother, she having left the family when Belle was very young. At least, that is the story that her father and sisters had perpetuated, and she had never had cause to doubt them.

Case after case of old glassware led up to the cash register and to a small assortment of crystal figurines. Belle gave a little gasp as her gaze fell upon a crystal and gold wire rose. Small, delicate and perfect, it seemed to sparkle under the dim lights just for her.

"See something you like, my dear?"

Dumbstruck, Belle pointed, lightly tapping the glass.

"The rose? It _is_ a lovely piece," Mr. Gold shuffled around the counter, the light _kathunk_ of his cane seemed amplified in the quiet store. Unlocking the case with a key from his jacket pocket, he withdrew the rose from it's resting place and held it out to her. "It's nothing, special, I'm afraid. Run-of-the-mill crystal."

Belle did not care, taking the rose from him gently, hardly daring to breathe.

"It's perfect," she whispered. She could hardly tear her eyes from it, uncertain of the nagging sensation in her belly. It reminded her of something, or someone, once upon a time, but she could hardly say what.

"Oh! It's a pendant,"

"So it is," Mr. Gold plucked it from her palm and carefully placed it back into the case.

She smiled shyly, feeling the heat flooding her cheeks, embarrassed.

"Apologies," she said, more to the glass case than to Mr. Gold. "It's just that I love roses." that sounded lame even to her.

"Would you like the pendant, Ms. Reading?"

"No, I couldn't possibly afford it -"

"I'm sure we could work out a little deal." he murmured, taking her hand again, his fingers tracing her palm lightly. Belle suppressed a shiver.

"A deal," she swallowed. It was just a trinket, nothing worth dealing with Mr. Gold over. At least that is what Mary Margaret would have likely told her. It was just a trinket. Nothing life or death. How bad could the deal be? Now that she had seen the rose, Belle knew she had to have it. It was all but calling out to her, like a sliver of her soul that she had not realized was missing.

"What would you give up, Belle, for a rose?"

Belle looked from the rose to Mr. Gold and back again. "Name your price,"

"Companionship," he said without hesitation. "Whenever I choose. Life can be lonely when you're considered the town..ogre."

Belle thought she saw a flicker of sincerity in his eyes.

"For how long?"

"Four occasions. Four wishes, if you will."

Well, she could handle that. "Done."

He removed the rose again, setting it on the glass before her while he rummaged through a drawer.

The little shoulder angel, the conscience in the guise of Mary Margaret, was stomping around, scolding her in a magnificent fashion. How could this shoulder angel/Mary Margaret understand the deep seated need that welled up when she saw the rose.

Mr. Gold had come around the counter, he had found a chain for the rose pendant.

"It looks delicate," he explained, motioning for her to turn around. "But it's strong and secure." he expertly fastened the clasp. His hand brushed the nape of her neck and she shivered involuntarily.

"Thank you," Belle whispered, not trusting her voice as she turned to face him. She hoped that only she could hear her heart galloping in her chest.

Uneasy at his closeness, unnerved by his gaze, Belle froze as he brushed his finger across her cheek and lightly fingered her brown curls. She could feel the blood rushing, again, to her face, damned blush. But there was no way to conceal it from him.

"I'd best be going," she murmured, fiddling with the zipper on her jacket.

"May I escort you home?" he stepped away, giving her room to breathe. It was not a request and Belle hesitantly accepted the offer of his arm, grateful for something to lean on.


	4. First

An entire week had passed since Belle had seen Mr. Gold. Part of her thought that maybe she had imagined making the deal with him. She absently played with the rose on it's chain thinking that perhaps he had changed his mind. Both scenarios seemed highly unlikely.

Saturday afternoons were often spent at the bookshop, assisting her father Maury with any odds and ends that could not attend to. As often as not, she spent her time perched upon the concrete planter outside with a novel, sometimes reading slowly and often watching the weekend life of Storybrooke pass by her.

Mary Margaret meandered down the road with her shopping bags, listening as Ruby relayed something she'd probably overheard at work. Archie going into the pizza parlour, his weekend ritual. Sheriff Graham sat in his squad car, observing the activity. Catching her eye, he smiled and gave her a wave. Uncertain, she returned the wave and immediately picked up her book, pretending to read. So maybe this time she could be cordial, but she didn't want him to think he was forgiven either. She figured at some point she ought to move past the heartache, they'd only been seeing each other for a couple of months before it ended. Things had been going so well, until he dumped her for the mayor, out of the blue.

"He's like her friggin' puppy dog," she muttered, crumbling a dead leaf until it was all but dust.

"Belle? Some help, sweetheart?" her father called from inside the shop.

Sliding off her perch with book in hand, Belle wandered back inside where Maury, red faced and forehead shiny with sweat, was waiting to hand his daughter a bunch of keys and a pricing gun.

"It'd be a huge help if you could tag these," he gestured to a box of bookmarks on the counter top. "I'm starved."

Taking her place behind the counter, Belle smiled at her father. "Go on, Papa and have a rest. I'll take care of things."

"I'll grab you a tea," he promised, kissing her cheek.

Belle sank onto a stool, yawning. Her week had been long, plagued with restless sleep and bad dreams. Absently, she played with the rose pendant she wore, still on the chain that Mr. Gold had put it on. In her dreams there were dark corridors, rooms lit only by moonlight, deep shadows cast by dusty furniture. Always physically alone in these dreams, Belle could only recall the persistent feeling of being watched, apprehension that whomever held her there would poof into being at any moment. In her dreams, she had entered that place willingly, but leaving was not an option. The night before had been spent running for her life, usually stumbling, through a snow filled forest, unseen wolves on her heels.

She shook her head in an attempt to shake off the fog of the dreams and hauled herself to her feet to begin tagging the bookmarks.

The hour or so that her father was gone dragged for Belle. Their Saturday shipment contained nothing new, only replenishment and only a couple of people were in the store, both absorbed in their browsing. Belle strove to make the bookmark display as neat as possible, organizing it into a colour gradient to pass the time.

"Good day, Ms. Reading."

Her head snapped up to see Mr. Gold standing off to the side of the counter.

"Goodness, how did you come in without me hearing you?"

"You seemed - preoccupied." he said, unsmiling.

"What may I help you with?" she inquired.

"I'm not here to shop, my dear," his voice quiet, face business like. "I've come to request your company and perhaps your assistance in my shop."

Her stomach did somersaults, she nervously glanced around for her customers, hoping they were not within earshot. Mr. Gold's eyes were fixed on the rose pendant at her throat.

"You've not forgotten our deal?"

"No, not at all," her hand on the rose again. "I will be along as soon as I am able."

Maury burst through the door in a whirlwind of dead leaves, Belle silently cursing his poor timing. He set her cup down none too gently, liquid splashing onto the countertop.

"Everything fine here? Here's your tea, Beauty." her father pushed the cup into her hands.

"Thank you, Papa," she mumbled, her eyes going back to Mr. Gold, Maury finally noticing the slighter man.

"Afternoon, sir." Maury gave Gold a crushing handshake. "What can we do for you?"

Belle stared at her tea cup, watching Mr. Gold carefully. Her father had a terrible habit of being over familiar with everyone and it was clear that Mr. Gold did not appreciate his open manner. She resisted the urge to sink behind the counter, embarassed for her father.

" - only to request your daughter's assistance when she is available." Mr. Gold was saying.

"Assistance? With what?" suspicion entered Maury's voice.

"A new computer," Mr. Gold lied smoothly. "You know how it is for us .. 'older folk'"

"All too well," Maury boomed, slapping Mr. Gold on the back. He swiped the keys from the counter. "Off you go now, Beauty, give this old man a hand."

Belle ignored Gold's thinly veiled irritation and slipped her jacket on.

"Later, Papa," kissing his cheek she sailed out the door after Mr. Gold.

The afternoon passed quickly into evening as Belle did the odd chores requested of her. Dusting the shop and cleaning the glass of the display cases mostly. Closing time found them in the back room, Belle polishing a silver tea set that had yet gone to the sales floor. Though she had not found Mr. Gold inclined to chatter, there had been periods of conversation earlier. The silence now was almost overwhelming, Mr. Gold was absorbed in sorting receipts and had not spoken in at least an hour.

She sighed and threw the polishing rag on the table. The light outside had faded into a heavy dusk, the old lamp near her seat doing little to keep it at bay. With furrowed brow, Gold remained at his work.

Rising from her chair, Belle stretched slowly to work out the aches from sitting for so long. Her hands reeked of silver polish. She wandered over to the old wash basin that Gold kept tucked into a corner. A hand towel appeared over her shoulder, Mr. Gold having slipped behind her.

"Thank you," she gave him a shy smile and set the towel neatly next to the basin. Turning to go back to her table, Mr. Gold still blocked her path.

"Yes, sir?"

Gold was silent, but conflict was clear on his face. All week he had consumed her waking thoughts and in some way had a presence in the bad dreams. Was it possible that he was as disturbed as she was? She stepped a little closer, his breath warm upon her forehead. Studying the pattern of his satin tie, Belle wrestled with her own feelings. For once, maybe it was time for her to take initiative. If she was indeed reading the situation right. What on earth was she thinking? She wasn't thinking. She was drawn to him, like a magnet, or maybe more like a moth to a flame. Stupid moth.

She glanced up to find his eyes on her still. Belle leaned in and gently pressed her lips to his. Gold was rigid and panic rushed through her. She began to pull away and he returned the kiss, his lips soft and warm, his arms circling her waist, pulling her against him. Belle sighed into his mouth as his hands roamed her body, up her sides, burying his fingers in her hair.

Belle pulled away, her breath ragged, resting her head on his chest. Her heart pounded in her ears, drowning out the nagging warning voice in her head.

"Belle," he breathed, his voice lower, rougher. He gently lifted her chin and brought his mouth down over hers in a long, deep kiss. Belle felt as though she were on fire. Knees weak, she clasped her hands around his neck for support.

The wild clanging of the bell over the shop door broke them apart. Foreheads pressed against each other, both catching their breath. Squeezing her slightly, he reluctantly released her and with an apologetic look, grabbed his cane and made his way to the other room.

Belle remained still, the blood was pounding in her ears, her face felt hot. On shaky feet, she maneuvered to the old wing chair and collapsed into it ungracefully.

"What the hell, Belle," the other Belle scolded.

"I know, I know - "

"Well if you _know_ , then why did you do it? You know as well as anyone that Gold is dangerous."

She rolled her eyes at 'other Belle' as Mr. Gold came back in.

"Your sister is here to escort you home."

"My sister - " Belle frowned, neither sister had an ounce of sisterly concern, being so wrapped up in themselves. "Very well." she rose from the chair, grabbing her jacket from a hook. Mr. Gold would not meet her gaze at first, even when she stood in front of him again.

"You're flushed," it was a statement. "Are you well, my dear?"

"Some would say not," she thought she saw him flinch a little. "But I am very well, thank you."

Finally looking down at her, Gold smiled thinly, cupping her face in his hands and pulling her in for another kiss.

"Good night, Ms. Reading," he murmured as he released her.

"Good night..sir."

Belle joined her eldest sister, Margo, in the shop, grunting her greeting and ignoring the response.

"Wow that place is creepy," Margo declared once they were buckled into the car. "How can you stand hanging out in there?"

"I like it there," Belle muttered. "And he sold some books to my school. I said I'd help him out now and again. You know, bartering."

"Right. He's the richest guy in town and he'd rather hang out with you than cut an easy check and be done with it?"

Margo chattered the whole drive home and Belle was content to let her. Jumping out of the car as soon as it came to a stop in the driveway, Belle gave Margo a half wave and ran into the house. Why the hell had Margo picked her up? Dropping her off at home was not exactly along her way.

Only one dim lamp and the television were on as Belle came into the living room. Enormous and snoring in his recliner, her father took in the football game through osmosis.

"Papa," Belle gently shook him. "It's hardly eight o'clock."

Maury grunted and his eyes fluttered open. "Hey, my Beauty."

"Hey yourself, Papa. You'll miss the rest of your game and then you'll be sad."

Lumbering out of the recliner, Maury began searching for the remote, muttering something about her being quite right and whatever would he do without her.

'Perish the thought' Belle sighed and went upstairs for the night, leaving her father to fend for himself.


	5. Backbone

The week before Halloween brought cooler weather and rain showers to Storybrooke. Belle and Mary Margaret sat in the latter's classroom on a dreary Thursday afternoon, surrounded by tissue paper, pipe cleaners, markers and construction paper. They worked in companionable silence, creating ghosts, bats and smiling pumpkins.

Belle picked dry glue from her fingers, listening to the soft rain and enjoying the damp breeze spilling through the open window.

"Have you decided on your costume yet?" Mary Margaret broke the silence. She slathered glue on a lopsided paper pumpkin.

"Mmm, no, not yet," Belle twisted a pipe cleaner into a wing shape. "You?"

"Uh uh," Mary Margaret contemplated markers, selecting a bright green one. " It's not like you to leave it so late though."

"Yeah, well. Things have been busy around the bookshop. Julia bailed out on her shifts earlier this week."

"Nothing new there." Mary Margaret said, rolling her eyes.

Julia, the other sister, was prone to ditching her job, family and friends whenever the opportunity presented itself, which was usually at least once a week. Often it was for her current boyfriend, whomever he happened to be that day. Belle's name for the boyfriends was the 'Daily Special', in her head anyway.

"So," Mary Margaret set her pumpkin aside to dry. "I was talking to Ruby."

"Like you do," Belle answered noncommittally, focused on a piece of tissue she was attaching to the pipe cleaner.

"Yes," Mary Margaret replied testily. "Like I do."

"And? What did Ruby Red have to say?"

"She saw you out walking the other night,"

"Oh? Is it a crime to walk now?" Belle was stalling.

"With Mr. Gold," Mary Margaret persisted.

"So?" Belle looked up from the bat she was making, her eyebrow raised.

"On his arm."

"He's old fashioned," Belle offered lamely, looking back down at her art project.

"Belle," Mary Margaret warned.

"What?" she was getting irritated. She set the half finished bat aside and began to clean her work space.

"You made a deal with him, didn't you?"

"And if I did?" Belle gave her friend a hard look. Uneasy, Mary Margaret began to clean up as well.

"What could you have possibly wanted so much you would make a deal with the devil?"

Recapping the glue sticks, Belle paused. "Did it occur to you that maybe you're overreacting about him?"

"And did it occur to _you_ that you haven't seen his nasty side yet?"

The women stared each other down as though waiting for the other to blink first.

Belle sighed, "I don't want to fight, Em."

"Neither do I," Mary Margaret waited for her friend to explain herself.

"I did make a deal. Of sorts," Belle ventured. Mary Margaret motioned for her to continue.

"He asked for my companionship," she explained, watching Mary Margaret's eyes go wide. " _Not_ like that, Em, geeze."

"Then like what?"

"Companionship and assistance. So last Saturday I did chores around his shop."

"There sounds like there's more," Mary Margaret's voice was cautious.

"Well, there's still three more.. _wishes_." Belle made air quotes. "I could end up cleaning out his eaves troughs for all I know."

Mary Margaret frowned, chewing on her bottom lip.

"All that for library books? Hardly seems worth it, Belle."

Belle shrugged, glancing down casually at the rose. Mary Margaret stowed their craft supplies and began to gather her things.

"Speaking of which, that book of fairy tales was a big hit with Henry."

Belle slung her bag over her shoulder and grabbed her umbrella. "The mayor's son?"

Mary Margaret nodded and waited for Belle to go out before shutting the lights off.

"Poor kid," she muttered. "If it helps him to deal with his mother, I might look the other way on over due fees."

Belle followed Mary Margaret into the office, saying her good nights to the ladies there. She wandered over to the mail bins, checking the library slot for real mail, memos etc. A single stem yellow rose lay on top of the pile, with a note. ' _How are you at pruning?_ ' the neat, slanted hand writing said. She slipped the note into her bag and smelled the rose, relishing the subtle perfume.

Mary Margaret raised an eyebrow but made no comment as they continued out the door and stepped outside into the rain.

*********

Belle spent her evening at the public library, curled up in a corner chair with a stack of the new magazines. Comfortable in the relative quiet, this was her sanctuary. The staff knew her as did most of the patrons, it gave her a sense of belonging that she normally did not feel. If only she could move her bed in there, Belle thought she could be content for the rest of her life.

"Good evening, Ms. Reading," an unfriendly female voice cut into her reverie, drawing her back from her happy place.

"Mayor Mills," Belle reluctantly acknowledged, looking up at the well dressed, dark haired woman towering over her.

"How are you this evening?"

"I am well," she said absently, flipping through a fashion magazine, not returning the courtesy of asking after Regina's evening.

"I've heard that you've been spending quite a lot of time at the pawn shop."

"And?" Belle stifled a yawn. She didn't dare look up at the mayor, she could already feel the animosity pouring off her and might lose her nerve.

" _And_ , people are beginning to _talk_. A young woman, such as yourself, all alone. With Mr. Gold."

Belle stiffened, clenched her jaw. She did not like the tone of Regina's voice even less than what she had said.

"Are you insinuating that I have -" she struggled for the word "behaved inappropriately with him?"

"I am not insinuating anything, my dear -" Regina lied, trying to look innocent in the face of Belle's rising anger.

"First of all," Belle set the magazine down and held up her hand. "I am not _your 'dear'_. Second, I'm not as young of a woman as you seem to think." Regina's eyes were hard and black, but Belle continued. "And with all _due respect_ , Madame Mayor, what _I_ do is none of _your_ concern."

Ignoring the mayor's barely concealed rage, Belle resumed skimming through her magazine. Without a word, Regina spun on her heel and stalked away.

"Have a nice evening, Mayor Mills," Belle called after her nonchalantly.

With the mayor out of sight, Belle exhaled, her heart pounding heart. She had stood up for herself, for once, instead of just imagining that she did. Inside her head, the 'other' Belle was celebrating.

"Maybe that was the wrong person to test out your backbone on," the 'other' Belle observed.

"Yeah, well," Belle glanced at the clock and began packing up."Too late to change it now."

She placed the magazines in a tidy stack at the circulation desk and waved goodbye to the staff.

Starting out for home, Belle glanced around, suddenly nervous. She laughed to herself and walked at a brisk pace, careful of any passing cars in case the mayor decided to run her over.


	6. Second

Sunday afternoon was cool but clear, a sweet reprieve from the rain showers of the previous week. Belle rubbed at her hands covered in scratches from the rose bushes in Mr. Gold's backyard. She smiled, congratulating herself on a job well done. Everything was neat, tidy and in order for the coming winter.

She stretched, fingertips pointed upward to the faint blue sky. She had not seen Mr. Gold since the late morning when she arrived. He had greeted her at the front door and shown her through to the back where he showed her to the gardening tools, the rose bushes in question and took his leave. Strolling around in a small circle, Belle was uncertain as to when she should leave. The back door they had come through was locked and she could see no gate in the wrought iron fence around the property. Peering through the windows that seemed to be the study, Belle tapped gently on the glass, hoping that he was inside and would come to show her out. There was no sign of life inside the house.

"Trapped," she muttered, the panic rising in her chest. "Damn the man."

Walking back over to the iron fence, she took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. The fence was high enough to discourage trespassers but not so high that she could not climb over it.

" _Could be fun_." the 'other' Belle urged. " _No one's watching_."

Belle scaled the fence slowly, carefully as she could. Rolling over the top, she lost her grip and fell hard onto the ground on the other side.

"Oof," Belle gasped for air, her body ached from the impact. She stared up at the sky peppered with clouds too wispy for shapes, listening to the occasional passing car. Footsteps came rushing up to her from somewhere nearby.

"Belle? Are you all right?"

It was Graham. Belle groaned, this was really the last thing she needed. He was standing over her, face full of concern.

"Yes, I'm fine." she grumbled, grabbing his hand and pulling herself to her feet. "Thank you." Belle brushed dried leaves from her sweater.

"I saw you fall from the fence," he told her. "what were you doing?"

Humiliation complete. She started to walk away, not wanting to answer his question or to even talk to him. The only thing she wanted was to get home and lock herself away in the bathroom for hours, perhaps forever.

"Where are you going?" Graham followed her, looking confused.

"Home."

"You're going to walk?" he grabbed her shoulder, spinning her around.

" _Yes_ ," she hissed. "Now let go." Belle jerked away, trying to leave again.

"But you might be hurt, let me take you home," Graham persisted.

"I'm. _Fine_. Graham." she said through clenched teeth.

"Is something the matter, Sheriff?"

Belle swore under her breath and looked back at the newly appeared Mr. Gold.

" _He's like a ghost, geeze._ "

"Only trying to help Belle home," Graham explained to an unimpressed looking Gold. "I saw her fall from the top of your fence."

" _Thanks_ , Graham," she thought, smiling weakly, narrowing her eyes at Graham.

"How odd," Gold observed. "since I left Ms. Reading doing yard work on my property a little while ago. I suppose this is why I could not find her."

"Surprise," she muttered.

"Thank you for your concern, Sheriff. I will take care of Belle from here." Gold informed them, beckoning her to follow him back into the house.

" _Great fun, stupid 'other' Belle_." she grumbled at her more adventurous side as she re-entered the gloomy looking building, Graham left forgotten on the sidewalk.

*********

Gloomy and museum-like was the 'other' Belle's assessment of the bottom floor of Mr. Gold's house, though that was to be expected when the homeowner also ran a pawn shop.

After installing her on an uncomfortable sofa in the den and fetching her a cold compress for her ankle (that Belle did not remember spraining in the fall), he had vanished again. The silence was broken only by the ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner. Belle sighed and fussed with the pillow under her head. This was not the Sunday afternoon she thought she would have. She took the compress from her leg and rose carefully from the sofa.

The light _tap tap tap_ of Gold's cane on the hardwood floor announced his return to the den. Still next to the sofa, she smiled and sat back down.

"Feeling better already?" he asked, crossing the room to take his place in a leather chair across from her.

"Oh, yes, thank you." she stared at the compress now in her lap. Gold had picked up the newspaper, paying no attention to her.

The room was dim, the only light coming from the reading lamp next to the leather chair. Belle got up and went to the heavily draped window. She found the curtain sash and pulled the fabric back.

"What _are_ you doing?"

"Letting the light in, it's so dark in here." she smiled, wandering over to a small bookcase tucked into the corner.

Gold stared after her, an odd expression on his face.

"Sir?"

"Hm? It's nothing," he went back to the newspaper. "A touch of _deja vu_."

She gently wiped the dust from the worn spines, skimming through titles of dull sounding books on business and politics. A children's book sat on the bottom shelf, the bright colours of the cover had faded with time. Belle opened it to the table of contents, it was a collection of fairy tales. Why on earth would someone like Mr. Gold have a book that was regarded as children's stories? Particularly since he had already passed on a volume or two of fairy tales to the school.

Faint pencil marks were next to some of the titles, most prominently by the tales of _The Miller's Daughter_ and _Beauty and the Beast_. She found a dog eared page (much to her dismay) and opened to an illustration of Rumpelstiltskin. Belle's heart ached, she had always felt sorry for the impish character. For all the wealth, magic and favours he had at his command, he didn't have anyone who seemed to care about him. How empty all that would be without love. She thought that he and Mr. Gold had a lot in common.

Belle leafed through until she came to _Beauty and the Beast_ , it's title page lovingly illustrated with Beauty in the arms of the Beast/Prince. It had long been her favourite tale though she felt it wasn't told entirely right. Her father loved it too and often read it to her when she was a child. Then, she would pretend that she was the Beauty in the story, but there were no castles, princes or witches curses in Storybrooke. But there were an awful lot of strange parallels between Beauty's character and family and Belle's own.

Looking up from the book, she noted that the afternoon light had begun to fade into evening and that her father would have expected her home some time ago. Belle reluctantly closed the book and returned it to it's home at the bottom of the dusty shelf.

"I really should be going," she said, breaking the silence. Mr. Gold had finished with the newspaper and seemed to be staring off into the middle distance.

"Yes," he agreed, a little absently. "I will take you home, if you like."

Waiting until he had gone from the room, Belle stood slowly, still sore from the fall. She retrieved her shoes and after a moment's consideration, decided to carry them. Gold looked mildly surprised as she came into the foyer in her stocking feet but made no comment.

"After you, my dear," he said, his hand light upon the small of her back.

With one last glance at the well furnished house, Belle stepped outside, the concrete cold beneath her feet. She followed Gold to the car, feeling guilty for going home, knowing that he would have to come back here alone. The 'other' Belle scolded her, he was a grown man and had chosen his solitude, just as she had. If he craved company he would likely find it.

"He's not a wicked, magical imp," the 'other' Belle admonished. "He does not _need_ saving. Least of all by you."

The last of the daylight had gone, concealing her frown from Gold. Pushing the strange thoughts aside, Belle focused on the hot bath she had promised herself earlier. There would be time enough to think later.


	7. Wrath

Halloween had come to Storybrooke, every porch adorned with a grinning jack-o-lantern, cloth ghosts fluttering from the naked tree branches. Belle, though she adored the holiday, hardly noticed as she passed her day in a fog. She spent the work day on auto pilot, absently shelving books and supervising library day. Her sleep was still poor, the dreams she had been having for a couple of weeks now still locked in that lonely castle she now knew to be inhabited by a beast. Thank goodness it was Friday.

When her day finally ended, Belle loaded up her cloth bag with books to return to the library and trudged out of the school, skipping her usual visit with Mary Margaret. Distracted as she was, Belle hardly noticed when her feet took her from the school to Mr. Gold's shop instead. She entered, quietly as usual, hoping to think of a reason to be there. Mr. Gold was at the counter, skimming through a card catalogue.

"Ms. Reading, what can I do for you?" he asked politely, not looking up as she crossed over to the counter.

"I hardly know, Mr. Gold," she lowered the sack of books she carried to the floor.

"Did you sleepwalk here?" he asked when he finally looked up, taking in her exhausted state.

"I think I did," she stared at her hands a moment, thoughtful. "I didn't sleep well."

"It would appear not," grabbing his cane, Gold motioned for her to follow him to the back room. "Sit, please."

Belle dropped into the wing chair gratefully. He offered her a glass of water and took a seat across from her.

"Thank you," she said, concentrating on the glass, hoping to divine an answer in the water. Nervous, she set the glass down and meandered around the room. The 'other' Belle, having taken the place of the Mary Margaret shoulder angel, danced around mocking her. Gold could and did make her nervous, but right now, she just didn't know how to behave around him. His reserve since their kiss in the shop confused her. Should she be more familiar with him or had she overstepped herself and should be more careful? She just didn't know.

"Belle," Gold's voice broke into her thoughts. "What do you think of this book?"

She wandered over to where he was seated, a faded children's book open on his lap.

"Oh, I saw this at your house," her fingers grazed the pages as she knelt on the floor at his feet. "I thought it was lovely, why do you ask?"

Gold was silent, gazing at an illustration of _Beauty and the Beast_ , he seemed sad. Unsure of what to say, she gently closed the book and set it behind her. Without thinking, Belle rose and slipped into the space between him and the arm of the chair, pressed close to him. Gold seemed surprised, for a moment, but he said nothing and he didn't move away. She took his hand in hers, lacing their fingers together.

"Why did you come?" Gold asked her, his eyes on their hands.

"I missed you," she said softly. "Is that allowed?"

"You missed me, dear?" Gold's mouth twisted into a smirk. Feeling bold, Belle kissed his forehead lightly and nuzzled his weathered cheek.

"That wasn't a part of the deal," he murmured, grazing the rose around her neck with his free hand.

"Does it need to be?" she asked, kissing his cheek.

The sound of the bell in the shop filled the silence before Gold could answer. Inside her head, Belle cursed it and whoever had come in. Neither one moved, their fingers still entwined, Belle resting her head against his.

It was Mr. Gold who moved first, getting to his feet and retrieving his cane from the table. He held a hand out to Belle and she accepted it, rising from the chair as the mayor appeared in the doorway, her presence like a storm cloud spoiling Belle's afternoon. Regina's eyebrows flew upward in mild surprise.

"Ever the gentleman, I see."

"If you could come by the house on Sunday to clean a bit," he told her, ignoring the mayor.

"If that is your wish, Mr. Gold." she dropped his hand. "Thank you, sir," she nodded to Regina as she passed. "Good afternoon, Madam Mayor."

Retrieving her bag of books, Belle made her escape from the pawn shop as quietly as she had come. Giving no thought to what business Regina Mills might have with Mr. Gold, she hurried along to her original destination to return her books.

*********

The small kitchen table was covered in silk tea roses, wire and glitter. Belle, too, was lost in the Halloween debris as she made one last twist of the wire of her headpiece and secured the final rose.

She smiled, satisfied with her handiwork and placed the rose wreath on her head. Armed with a dust buster, Belle set about cleaning up the sparkle explosion. Packing away the leftover wire and the glitter jars, she went over to the refrigerator to pull out her father's supper.

"Meatloaf. Two minutes?" she hit 'start' and leaned back, drumming her fingers against the countertop.

Maury came tromping through the back door without fail at eight o'clock, pausing in the mud room long enough to peel his boots and jacket off before rolling into the kitchen.

"Hi, Papa," Belle sang happily, going over to him for a quick hug and peck on the cheek. The microwave screamed loudly at her to retrieve the meatloaf. In her hurry to place the food, with a hastily prepared salad and a glass of milk, in front of her father, Belle missed his stormy expression.

Taking a ceramic mug from a cupboard, Belle plopped a tea bag in and poured water from the electric kettle over it. She slid into a chair across from Maury, carefully setting down the steaming brew.

"Bad day at the shop, Papa?" she asked after a couple of minutes of uncomfortable silence. Maury had taken a few half-hearted stabs at the meatloaf but the rest of his meal was still untouched.

"Is your sister home?" he asked, ignoring her question.

"No," Belle answered cautiously, beginning to pick up on the hostile mood. "I don't think so."

Maury speared a cherry tomato onto his fork, considered it, then dropped fork and all onto the plate.

"I've heard that you and that loan shark have gotten quite cozy." he said suddenly.

Still poised over her mug, her lips pursed to blow on the tea, Belle stared at her father in disbelief.

"Loan shark, Papa?" she finally managed to ask.

"Don't play stupid with me, Beauty,"

"I honestly don't know what you're talking about, Papa." Belle lied, setting the tea mug down near the wall in case tempers were lost.

"Mr. Gold," Maury said through clenched teeth.

Belle stared at the weave of the cheap place mat, confused over her father's obvious anger toward her and hostility at the notion that they were 'cozy' together. His usual good nature and tunnel vision in respect to his work had made Belle think that her father had not had any dealings with Mr. Gold, that he wasn't aware of how Gold was perceived in town. Clearly, she had been mistaken.

"I've been helping him, yes, but 'cozy'? Don't be silly, Pa-"

"What business is it of yours to help that devil?" he slammed his large fist onto the table, making her jump. "Do you work for him? Did you make a deal with him? What in god's name could you want that I could not provide you?"

"I'd hardly call dusting and trimming the hedges 'working for that devil'." Belle retorted.

"Is that what you call it?" Maury shouted.

"What else am I supposed to call _dusting_?"

He jumped up angrily, knocking his chair backward to the floor.

"I will not have you lying to me!" he roared, storming around the kitchen and paying no attention to Belle's protestations of innocence and pleas for him to calm down. Maury froze in mid tantrum, his gaze falling to the pendant that had slipped from his daughter's sweater. "Where'd you get that?"

"What, this?" Belle frowned a little, glancing down.

"It's new. Who gave that to you?"

She opened her mouth and shut it again, it hardly mattered what she said when her father was in a temper, and he would not hear her. Belle cried out in surprise as Maury grabbed the rose and in one hard yank, ripped it and the chain from around her neck. He threw the rose to the floor and crushed it beneath his house slipper.

"I will _not_ have that man take everything I have." Maury muttered, storming out of the room and leaving Belle confused and shaken in the middle of the room.

"Clearly there is an unpleasant history between Papa and Gold that he hasn't bothered to mention." 'Other Belle' observed.

"No kidding," she muttered, not in the mood to justify her father's behavior to herself. Belle tore the rose wreath from her head, blinking back angry tears. She grabbed the broom and dust pan and began to pick up the pieces.


	8. Admission

Belle did not go to the book shop with her father as she usually did on Saturdays. Spending time with him in close quarters was the last thing she wanted to do after last night and he did not try to wake her before he left which suggested to her that he felt the same way. Instead she sat curled up in the ratty chair by her bedroom window, staring out but not seeing anything. The sun, warm through the glass and the faint autumn blue sky, did little to cheer her.

Her own volume of fairy tales sat open and unattended on the window ledge, a plastic bag with the larger pieces of the destroyed rose pendant sitting upon it. The remaining crystal caught the sunlight, throwing tiny rainbows on the pages but Belle didn't care, she could hardly look at it. Perhaps she was being childish and over dramatic about it's destruction but she couldn't help feeling sick over it.

The faint sound of knocking at the front door eventually drew Belle back from wherever her mind had gone. She took a deep breath in an attempt to compose herself and padded downstairs, not bothering to peek out of the window before opening the door.

"Em," she heard herself exclaim, still feeling a million miles away from her body.

"Mind if I come in?" Mary Margaret stepped past Belle into the hallway, not waiting for her to remember to invite her in.

"Sure, come on in," she mumbled, leading the way into the kitchen where Mary Margaret deposited her grocery bags. She went to the refrigerator and pulled out a pitcher of iced tea while Mary Margaret made herself comfortable at the tiny table.

Belle brought over two tall glasses of iced tea, setting one in front of Mary Margaret before dropping into the chair across from her with her own glass. She stared at the glass, waiting for Mary Margaret to speak because it certainly was not going to be her.

"What are you doing at home today? Are you sick?"

"Mmm, yes, you could say that," she swirled the ice cubes around with the tip of her finger.

"Did you forget that the carnival decorating committee was meeting today?"

Shoving the glass of tea away, Belle got up and strode back to the refrigerator. She grabbed a can of cola and returned to the table. Mary Margaret looked puzzled over her friend's agitated state.

"I did forget. I'm sorry. I can go shower and head over -" Belle offered with what she hoped was an apologetic smile but Mary Margaret shook her head.

"Everything is set up for tonight. You _are_ still coming though, right?"

"Yes, I wouldn't miss it," she said, jumping up from the chair again, unable to sit in the kitchen any longer. Cola still in hand, Belle jerked her head in the direction of the stairs and headed up to her room with Mary Margaret on her heels. She didn't relax until she was ensconced in the chair by the window again, the sunlight like a balm to her nerves. Grabbing the plastic bag from the ledge, she passed it over to Mary Margaret, perched on the edge of Belle's small bed.

"What's this?" Mary Margaret turned the bag over in her hands, tiny rainbows flitted across her skirt as the crystal caught the light. "Is this that pendant you've been wearing? What on earth -"

"My father threw it to the floor and crushed it." Belle said blandly. Mary Margaret's face was covered in 'whys' but she seemed too stunned to speak.

"He thinks - no. He insists that I am - .. _with_ Mr. Gold."

"But you're not. Right?"

"No! Of course not! Is that what everyone thinks?" Belle's voice going up an octave in her agitation.

"No! Not at all."

"You don't need to lie to me," she mumbled, looking out the window. Mary Margaret sat on the arm of the chair, setting the bag in Belle's lap.

"Not _everyone_ thinks that, sweetie," she soothed, putting her arm around Belle's hunched shoulders. "Somehow I think there's more to this than a crushed pendant. Where did you get this pendant anyway?"

"From the pawn shop, it's why I've been doing chores for Mr. Gold."

"You made a deal for this, then," Mary Margaret said, to herself mostly, giving Belle a gentle squeeze.

"And now it's ruined and I'm still in debt," she sighed, tossing the bag back onto the ledge.

"But what is actually bothering you, Belle? You've been acting kind of - lovesick."

Belle moved from the chair to the ledge, shoving her book unceremoniously aside. Chewing on her lip she debated whether she should tell Mary Margaret anything else.

"I _am_ kind of lovesick," she shrugged. "Have you ever felt like you're really supposed to be someone else? Or maybe you _were_ someone else?"

"No, I don't think so, maybe you should talk Dr. Hopper," Mary Margaret looked thoughtful, Belle glared at her. "Maybe not. Are you lovesick over Mr. Gold?"

"I feel like I know him. Or knew him. It doesn't make any sense to me, I keep having nightmares, I haven't slept well in days."

Mary Margaret frowned, sliding into the vacant chair. "That doesn't sound like anything like love." she paused. "Have you told him?"

"Told him what?" Belle looked up, confused.

"Have you told him that you love him?"

"Of course I haven't. Are you nuts?"

Mary Margaret smiled and glanced at her watch. "I need to get the groceries home, will you be all right?"

Belle nodded, still mulling over Mary Margaret's suggestion. She didn't bother to get up and show her to the door.

"I'll meet you at the school then. Six o'clock now, don't forget."

"Yes, mother," she said dryly, listening to Mary Margaret's footsteps fade down the stairs and eventually out the front door.

*********

The brightly lit school gymnasium was crowded with excited students and their families playing games and crowding around the food tables. On the small stage at one end, a small, lousy band in wizard costumes played popular covers and Halloween music with a few of the less discriminating party goers dancing goofily along.

Belle stood behind the punch bowl armed with a ladle and a fake smile. This was not the table she had wanted to work, in the middle of the action and swarmed by people. But she had taken a nap and overslept, rushing in a half an hour late. Adjusting the rose wreath on her head, she went back to filling cups, at least she looked cute.

"At least it'll be over soon." 'other' Belle offered as she perched on the stool. She surveyed the space around her, waving back at the students who called to her and complimenting the costumes of those she served.

She filled cups with the last of the punch, handing one to an outstretched adult hand. That hand belonged to Mr. Gold.

"Good evening, Ms. Reading," he greeted her with a smirk.

"Hello," she managed to say before he raised his cup of punch to her and hobbled off to take in the rest of the carnival.

_Hey, way to go there, Belle. Acting like you've never even talked to him before. What are you? Twelve?_

"Shut up, Belle," she muttered, not wanting to admit that she had a point. Belle cleaned up the punch table and wandered out into the middle of the party.

Mary Margaret, adorable in her lady bug costume, came by with Ruby from the diner. She slung her arm around Belle's shoulders and gave her a squeeze.

"Hey, sweetie," she shouted over the music. "How are you feeling?"

"Better, thanks."

"We're going to go dance," Ruby yelled, pointing to the wizard band. "Want to come with?"

"Sure, I'll be there in a minute." Belle said, nodding her assent in case they had not heard her. She scanned the thinning crowd, seeing her father near the game booths talking with the mayor and Graham, but no Mr. Gold. She thought she saw him move toward a side door.

Belle slipped away from the crowd of costumed party goers, gliding noiselessly over the polished floor in her thin slippers. She thought she had seen Mr. Gold head off this way but now he seemed to have vanished. Glancing around to be sure that she was unnoticed by her father, Belle passed through the side door to the outside. He had paused on the gravel path, back to her and leaning heavily on his cane.

"Mr. Gold?" she said softly, nervous to give her presence away as though there were anyone else out there.

"Ms. Reading," turning to face her, his expression guarded. He looked over her costume, from the thin ballet slippers on her feet, pink tulle skirt and sheer blouse over pink leotard. "Your costume is much too thin for chasing after people in the darkness."

"I'm not cold," she lied, trying not to shiver. "You are leaving?"

"I'm not the party type," he said flatly, turning to go. Belle hurried past him to block his way. "If you will excuse me."

Belle remained, teeth beginning to chatter, staring down Mr. Gold.

"Go back inside," he ordered her, but she remained.

"Only if you come with me," her voice small, not trusting herself to speak much louder. Belle waited, unable to keep from shivering any longer.

"You're going to freeze to death," Gold declared. He slipped off his jacket and draped it around her shoulders. "You can bring it by tomorrow."

"Thank you," Belle said sincerely, slipping her hand into his.

"Belle," he went to pull his hand back but she tightened her grip. "Why are you doing this?"

She went up onto her toes, kisisng his cheek. "Because I love you," Belle murmured, watching for his reaction. "And I know that I shouldn't, but it can't be helped."

"Is it really you?" Gold pulled her against him and rest his face in her hair, knocking the wreath of tea roses there askew.

Belle relaxed in his arms, sighing softly. She didn't expect him to declare his feelings or even to return what she felt, somehow she knew that he wouldn't. But it didn't matter to her, she felt a million times lighter and _right_ in confessing her heart to him. The best that she could hope for was that he wouldn't smash it into a thousand pieces.

Gold brushed his lips across her forehead, kissed the side of her face, Belle supressed a giggle at the pink glitter that shone dully on his face. He kissed her softly, lingering, sensing her impatience.

"I think you just ate some glitter-" she said before he cut her off with another kiss, this one more intense and chasing any other thoughts from her mind.

"Well, if it isn't the beauty and the beast," Mayor Mills' voice dripped with sarcasm. "And just _what_ is going on here?"

Mr. Gold pressed Belle's hand to his lips and then released her. "Good evening, Regina. I was just on my way home." he limped down the path away from them without even a glance at Belle.

The mayor's cold gaze fell fully on Belle, she tapped her foot on the gravel, waiting for Belle's excuse. Mary Margaret and Ruby peeked out of the shadows near the door with puzzled expressions.

"Your friends were very concerned when they couldn't find you, Ms. Reading, I suggest you go back inside before you catch a chill." Regina commanded.

Unable to think of a reason why she could not go back in and unwilling to give Regina any more incentive to tell her father, Belle followed her back in to rejoin her friends.


	9. Clarity

Still uncertain as to how to she managed to escape the carnival unnoticed by friends and family, Belle hurried through the streets of Storybrooke on her way to Mr. Gold's house. The night had grown colder since she had chased after him, the wind reaching through her pea coat with icy fingers. She kept her head down, the bag with her costume beating a muffled rhythm against her thigh and Gold's suit jacket slung over her shoulder.

Cold drops of rain hit Belle's head as she rounded the corner. She broke into a jog, moving across the sidewalk and quickly up the front walk to the imposing Victorian. She stopped abruptly at the bottom of the stairs suddenly overcome with anxiety. Perhaps she should have waited until tomorrow to return his jacket, he could already be in bed for all she knew. What she hoped to accomplish from this visit, Belle had no idea, other than she felt compelled to be there.

Forcing herself to take that first step, Belle moved easily after that to the door. Butterflies fluttered from her stomach into her throat but she rang the doorbell anyway, the 'other' Belle in her head finally calming down now that she had followed through.

_Deep breath, Belle, you don't need to be passing out from lack of oxygen as soon as he comes to the door._

Belle stared at her feet as she waited, listening to the rain and wind intensify behind her. Mr. Gold opened the door as she was turning to go, surprise flickering across his face but then settling back into his usual, unreadable expression.

"Trick or treat?" she said shyly.

"Isn't it a bit late for such activities?" Gold asked, ushering her in out of the cold.

She shrugged, following him into what might have passed for a parlour in another time. This room was filled with many more curiosities and antiques than the den had been. Belle gravitated to a curio cabinet, oblivious of Mr. Gold watching her. On a shelf near the top was a sweet china tea cup, delicately painted.

"Oh, it's chipped," she whispered. Something in her memory stirred; a dropped cup, a man with bronze skin and homesickness, such intense homesickness.

"Belle," Mr. Gold's voice startled her and she whirled around to face him.

"Right," she presented him with the loaned suit jacket. Gold took it and dropped it into a nearby chair. "Thank you, I really appreciate it."

"My pleasure," he muttered, turning his back to her.

Belle rocked on her feet a little, unsure of what to say next. His manner was aloof and almost unapproachable to her; as he usually was, she supposed. Moving quietly across the hardwood floor, Belle came up behind him and slipped her arm around his waist. Gold remained rigid, gazing at the portraits that hung on the papered walls.

"Mr. Gold," she pressed herself close to him, brushing her lips across his rough cheek. Gold's eyes were shut and he seemed to be clenching his teeth. Gently, he extracted himself from her arms and stepped away.

"Belle, it's late. Perhaps you should get home," Gold gestured to the door.

She ignored him, walking back over to the curio cabinet to look at the tea cup. She caressed the wood of the door absently, her mind wandered through lonely corridors and lifeless rooms. A strange man seated at a large spinning wheel, intent on his work. He was spinning straw.

"Are you all right?" he was beside her now, his hand light upon her shoulder. Belle looked at him in amazement, everything in her mind was suddenly clear.

"It's you," Belle whispered, a smile spreading across her face. "your skin, it's - normal."

Mr. Gold's eyes were wide, he seemed momentarily dumbfounded. She took his hands in hers, still smiling. Belle had no idea how they had ended up in this world, but seeing him again drove all other questions to the back of her mind.

"No, Belle," Gold's voice was strained. "You have to go."

"I don't understand, Rumple -" her voice cracked with emotion, he jerked his hands away from her.

"Enough! Stop tormenting me," he snarled, his face inches from hers. "That she-devil put you up to this, didn't she? She _knows_."

"She? What? Who are you talking about?"

"Her appearances aren't coincidences, are they? Always popping in when you and I are together. It was all set up, this is both of you!"

"You're mad," she breathed, her face frozen in an expression of horror as he raged at her, she had no idea who he was going on about.

"Or did you do this to get your dear Papa out of debt with me?"

"Are you _nuts_? I thought you might love me as I still do you!" Belle cried.

"Stop _saying_ that!" Gold shouted, shaking her by her shoulders. She winced at his tight grip. "Get out," he hissed, releasing her. Determined not to let him see her cry, Belle hurried to the door.

"You're still a coward, Rumplestiltskin," she managed to croak though her throat was tight with the threatening tears. Belle reached into her coat pocket and pulled out the bag of rose pieces, she threw it on the floor at his feet. "Some things will never change."

Belle flung the door open and dashed outside into the pouring rain. Soaked within seconds, she ran blindly through the streets of Storybrooke, not caring which direction she went, she just knew she had to get away.

Spinning wheels, straw into gold, Rumplestiltskin? Life wasn't a fairy tale, none of it was real, what on earth was she thinking? Maybe she _was_ going crazy, as her father sometimes alluded to. Perhaps that was what happened to her missing mother.

She sped down Main Street, leaping over flooding drains. Somewhere near her father's bookshop, Belle slipped on the wet curb and went down hard. She cried out, but then knocked her head on the concrete and everything went black.


	10. Betrayal

She opened her eyes, squinting at the bright sunlight on her face. Belle took in her surroundings in mild confusion, her head aching and tender. After a moment she realized that she was at home tucked into her bed. She breathed a small sigh of relief and sank further into the soft pillows.

The deep drone of her father's voice drifted up the stairs and Belle strained to hear what he was saying. He was likely on the phone in the kitchen, putting too many walls between he and Belle's room for her to hear properly. She sat up slowly, the rest of her body aching in protest along with her head. Groaning, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and got up, heading to the stairs. Belle eased herself down the steps, relying heavily on the railing. A strong, musky floral fragrance filled her nose as she entered the living room and Belle wrinkled her nose at the sight of two arrangements of white lilies on the coffee table.

"Uck, who sent those?" 'other' Belle commented as she discovered her father at the kitchen table. He looked exhausted, dark circles under his eyes looking almost like he'd been in a fight, he stared blankly at a mess of paperwork in front of him and the cordless handset in his hand.

"Hello, Papa," Belle sang halfheartedly, moving about to make herself a mug of tea.

"Hello, Beauty," Maury's voice was gruff. "How are you feeling this morning?"

"I feel like I got hit by a truck. Or maybe a ton of bricks," she gave Maury a weak smile, leaning back on the counter as she waited for the kettle to boil.

Maury nodded once, glancing at her and then resumed staring at the paperwork, maybe hoping that she'd think he were reading. She plopped the tea bag into the mug and poured in the water, inhaling the sharp peppermint steam that wafted from the tea.

"It's so beautiful outside," she squinted at the window. "Perfect for the trick-or-treaters tonight."

"Trick-or-treaters?" Maury blinked.

"For Halloween, Papa?" Belle frowned. "Did you close the shop for today?"

He looked at her strangely, like he sometimes did when she was younger and had been having "her troubles" as he preferred to term them. Belle felt that it was silly to sugar coat mental illness that way but when Maury put his foot down, his word was law.

"Halloween was two days ago, Belle," Maury grumbled. "It's late Monday morning."

Belle froze, staring at her father, only moving when the scalding tea began to drip onto her fingers. Snapping out of it, she carelessly dropped her mug into the sink, spilling tea down the drain and made a start for the stairs.

"I'm late for work, why didn't you wake me!" she cried, confused by the holes in her memory and hurting from the deliberate movement. Maury had followed her, his expression one of troubled concern.

"Hush now, Beauty," he soothed, his large hand gentle on her shoulder. "You took a nasty spill on Saturday night, during a rain storm. We couldn't find you anywhere, gave me and your sisters quite a fright."

"Where _is_ Julia?" she asked.

"At your sister's house," he said quickly. "I found you in the gutter near the shop. Beyond soaked through and bleeding from a gash in the back of your head."

"Oh," Belle reached up, gingerly touching the very tender part of her head, brushing her fingers across what seemed to be stitches.

"You spent most of yesterday asleep or awake and delirious with a fever that broke late last night," Maury brushed a tear from his eye. "Why on earth would you have left the carnival to get caught out in the storm? I was worried sick."

Belle opened her mouth to explain and immediately shut it again, realizing that she really couldn't remember why she had left the Halloween carnival alone. She couldn't remember much beyond their fight Friday night.

"I truly cannot remember, Papa," she said finally.

Maury gently drew her into his large arms, crushing Belle to him as he kissed the top of her head tenderly, as he used to do, when she and her sisters would stay over with friends. Her heart ached with the rest of her. The doorbell ended their moment and she gasped for air as he let her go.

"Almost like he's saying goodbye to you, eh, lady?" 'other' Belle sneered.

"Go upstairs, please, Beauty.

"But, why - " she started to ask but a hard look from Maury sent her obediently up the stairs while 'other' Belle lectured her some more about being an adult and being treated like a child.

"What do you mean you don't remember anything, stupid girl? Mary Margaret came over on Saturday and you got all dolled up like a rose fairy and poured punch for strangers," Belle rolled her eyes and shook her head at 'other' Belle. She laid carefully on the carpeted floor next to the railing, listening as Maury admitted their visitor.

" - Mr. Gold. I made my payment last week."

"You mean to tell me that you've forgotten telling that wicked imp that you love him?" the 'other' Belle hissed.

"What!" she squeaked aloud, clamping her hand over her mouth, hoping she had not been heard.

" - come to offer my sincere condolences, Mr. Reading," Mr. Gold was saying. Belle tried hard to focus on the conversation downstairs instead of the one going on inside her head. " - such a sad tragedy, the loss of a daughter."

"Yes," Maury's voice seemed strained. "We thank you for your sympathies and the visit."

"Please, accept these. I thought they would be more - appropriate, than more lilies."

_He loves you too, you know. He's just far too cowardly to give in to it. You called him by his real name and he screamed for you to go. Then it began to rain, because that's how the luck runs._

Belle laid there listening to 'other' Belle in disbelief though the memories of the past forty-eight hours started to trickle in, backing up the voice in her head. Mr. Gold had gone, and baffled, she went back downstairs. Maury thrust three white roses into her hands, tiny thorns piercing her palms.

"Papa," she began, trying to keep her voice steady. She busied herself with cutting the stems and placing the roses in with a vase of lilies. "Papa, who died?"

Maury dropping his large body into the recliner almost covered the sound of someone coming through the back door.

"If you're smart, girl, you'd run now."

"Is that why Julia isn't here?" her eyes filled with tears, voice cracking. Maury said nothing, his eyes full of sorrow. Belle turned, hoping to see her sisters coming through the kitchen door and instead finding Mayor Mills, looking positively triumphant, followed by a tall, stern man with a craggy face and unkempt black hair.

"Mr. Reading," Regina purred. "Belle."

Belle looked from her father to Regina and the lackey, who seemed to be some kind of hospital orderly. Even though 'other' Belle raised the alarm before they appeared, her fear took a minute to kick in.

"Papa, what's going on?" she asked, taking a small step back from the orderly. She regarded him warily, only half hearing what her father was saying, and wondering if she stood any chance in escaping him. Probably not, she decided. Not even on a good day could she out run someone that size and today was definitely not a 'good day'.

" - it's for your own good, my Beauty," Maury was saying. "And not for long, I promise. Just until you're better."

"What?" she looked back to her father, hardly believing what she was hearing.

"And Regina was so good as to help me get you a place at a hospital in Boston, for .. people like you."

"Like me? You mean 'crazy' don't you." Belle said angrily.

"And they're here to take you down there." Maury finished, not listening to his daughter.

"How can you do this?" she whispered. "I'm not crazy, you _know_ that."

"You raved about spinning straw into gold yesterday!"

"I was delirious! You said so yourself!" Belle exclaimed, throwing her arm into an arrangement of lilies and knocking them to the floor. "I'm the one. I'm the dead daughter, aren't I? You're never coming for me are you?"

"Of course I - " Maury tried to sway her. A quick nod of his head sent the towering orderly over to take Belle by the arm.

"If you were, you wouldn't be acting as though I died!" she struggled against his grip, breaking away and running for the door. The orderly easily caught her from behind, picking her up and oblivious to her kicking legs.

"You don't need to hurt her!" Maury croaked. "Oh Beauty, please forgive me. Forgive me for not being able to manage you."

"I haven't even _done_ anything," Belle roared as she struggled against the giant's vise-like hold. "I'm not a _child_ , Papa, you don't need to 'manage' me."

Regina grabbed a blanket from the back of the couch and threw it over Belle's head as the lackey threw her over his shoulder. The swaying motion of the orderly walking unsettled her already upside down stomach, they were leaving. Belle heard her father whisper 'goodbye' as she was hauled out of the house like a bag of laundry.

The blanket fell off when the man pushed her into the back seat of what looked like Regina's heavily tinted car. Belle took the opportunity to scramble for the other door, but he was too quick and grabbed her ankle, dragging her back as she heard the door locks click. She felt a sharp stab in her arm followed by a burning sensation and Belle glanced over to see him withdrawing a syringe and then slamming the door shut.

Belle tried unlocking both doors without success, it would make sense that Regina had child safety locks. Pounding at the door with her fists, Belle screamed at the top of her lungs but no one came, no one cared. Her eyes began to feel heavy and she half registered that whatever he had given her was some kind of tranquilizer. The orderly and Regina had slipped into the front of the car without a glance for their prisoner.

Falling across the leather seat, Belle gave into the tears. Utterly betrayed by the one person who should have protected her from anything and anyone, especially Regina Mills. She closed her eyes and drifted into semi-unconsciousness, dreaming of piles of gold and the strange man who could coax it from simple straw.

**End.**


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